


The Movies

by sorcererofsupremepizza



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John and Sherlock go to the movies, M/M, Snogging in the hallway, and movie theaters, written way back when Doctor Strange came out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 10:10:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11034057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererofsupremepizza/pseuds/sorcererofsupremepizza
Summary: John convinces Sherlock to go to the movies, using some... very persuasive tactics.





	The Movies

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, you might know me from tumblr. I've been convinced to put my work up here, so here goes.

“Oh come on, Sherlock. It’ll be fun.” John said, standing in the doorway of the bedroom to keep the detective from dashing off before he could finish.

The dark-haired man scoffed. “Fun is not a darkened theater filled with idiots who do not know how to stay quiet, get off their phones, or even comprehend the dull, boring, and predictable nature of the so-called ‘cinematic experience.’ No John, I might not have a case, but you will not subject me to seeing a bloody comic book movie.” Sherlock made to step past him, but John caught him.

“Sherlock Holmes, how many times have we done things that you enjoy?”

Sherlock glanced at him, his brow crinkling in thought. As if he was actually calculating the answer to that question. John rolled his eyes.

“Sher- no, never mind. Just, come on Sherlock. Please. For me?”

“But we just did something you like last weekend, John.” Sherlock stuck his bottom lip out. He was pouting. John shook his head and glanced away, clenching his jaw slightly. He smiled thinly.

“That wasn’t for me, Sherlock. That was bloody grocery shopping. That I did. For the both of us.”

“You wanted milk. So you got milk. I don’t see –

John cut him off by smashing his lips against Sherlock’s, shoving the detective against the wall behind him. “You know, for a genius, you are an idiot sometimes. But I love you for it.”

Sherlock was silent for a few moments, taken absolutely off guard by the sudden kiss. “That is the most contradictory statement you’ve ever—oh. Oh.” He wrung his long fingers together for a few more moments. Then, “I love you too, John. Obviously.”

Sherlock visibly relaxed and was about to reply, but his phone started ringing. He frowned and met John’s gaze as he withdrew the mobile device from his inside jacket pocket. “It’s Lestrade.” He said.

But he didn’t answer it.

John furrowed his brow. If Lestrade was calling, that meant work. And Sherlock wasn’t answering it? “Well?”

Sherlock pocketed his phone again. “Not important. Question for you though, John.”

“Yes?” John looked at the detective. His gaze had softened and his smile widened when Sherlock just pocketed the phone again.

“That thing you did just now,” Sherlock scratched the back of his head, anxious as he spoke, “Is that a thing commonly done in movie theaters?”

John’s calm grin turned into a sly smirk and he waggled his eyebrows slightly. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, Sherlock.” His voice was noticeably lower and gravelly as he spoke. Then, he turned sharply on his heel and sauntered off to get his coat. He was smirking the whole time.

Sherlock stood in the hallway for a long while, trying to comprehend what John had just said. Once it finally clicked, and his demeanor made sense to the detective, Sherlock bolted for his own coat and shoes. In fact, he beat John downstairs to hail a taxi.

At the movie theater, once John had purchased the tickets for the movie, Doctor Strange, Sherlock soon found out that making out during a film was, in fact, one of the most common date activities known to man. In fact, he and John got so into their own little world, that they failed to even notice the obvious resemblance of the lead actor to Sherlock. Or the fact that magic was a thing in this movie. Sherlock would have had a bloody field day if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied.

But, as it goes when one has a tongue down one’s throat, Sherlock Holmes couldn’t have cared less about correcting the film. The night certainly wasn’t dull. Or boring. Or even remotely predictable.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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